


the world will follow after (come on, come on)

by lotts (LottieAnna)



Series: the days we were golden [3]
Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Fraternity, Flirting, Friends to Lovers, Getting Together, M/M, Pining, Someone Help Them, brief appearances by Taylor Raddysh and Mitchell Stephens, specifically ang's frat 'verse because guess what i love her!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-05
Updated: 2018-01-05
Packaged: 2019-02-28 19:36:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,725
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13278447
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LottieAnna/pseuds/lotts
Summary: There’s a long list of initials carved into the floorboards of brothers who’ve lived in this room before, and one day, Nate and Mikey are gonna add theirs.





	the world will follow after (come on, come on)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [preciousthings](https://archiveofourown.org/users/preciousthings/gifts).



> IF YOU FOUND THIS THROUGH GOOGLING, KNOW ANYONE MENTIONED IN THIS STORY PERSONALLY, OR ARE MENTIONED YOURSELF: please, please click away. This is a work of fiction and nothing written in this story is true. Any accurate information used in this story is publicly available information about public figures, the rest is made up, 100%.
> 
> this is for ang, who created the wonderful [frat 'verse](http://archiveofourown.org/series/831336) that this story is set in and is also one of my favorite people. i wrote this all in one night after one of our early conversations about this frat which proceeded to consume my life for a few hours. so i hope y'all enjoy this story about boys who can't even begin to wrap their heads around how in love they are! title from "accidentally in love" by counting crows.

 

Mikey has this way of navigating the world, like–like, he just goes where he wants, and does what he wants. It’s really fucking weird to Nate, because Mikey will ask for things from people, and ask again if they say no, and pretty much keep asking until they say yes. It’s how he passed his calc class after sleeping through the final, and how he got into a graduate seminar as a sophomore, and how he got him and Nate a room in the Delta house, even though there are juniors who are still in the dorms. Like, Nate’s pretty sure that he wouldn’t even be a Delta if Mikey hadn’t asked Dylan to vouch for him when they were rushing, even though Dylan had probably barely known who Nate was, beyond Mikey’s roommate. It had been a next-level beauty move, and pretty much confirmed Nate’s suspicion that Mikey is, like, the best bro a guy can hope for.

It’s just–it’s easy to get caught up in the whirlwind that is Friendship With Mikey, and Nate will sometimes just go wherever Mikey’s going and not even realize what’s happening until he’s already in the thick of it.

Like, now, he and Mikey are getting ice cream. That’s normal, even though it’s February, and the ice cream parlor is empty, but he and Mikey are here, like, once a week, and the owner likes them enough that doesn’t charge them for toppings, which is good, because Nate really likes sprinkles.

They’re sitting across from each other, and Nate’s about to dig into his cup of soft serve, but Mikey elected to get a cone, which he’s currently licking, and Nate ends up staring at his tongue instead.

“Are you not hungry or something?” Mikey asks. There’s a chocolate smudge at the corner of his mouth.

“I am, you’re just distracting me,” Nate says, finally taking a bite.

“What does that even mean?” Mikey says, but the corners of his eyes are crinkled, which means he’s trying not to smile, so Nate figures he’s doing this on purpose.

“You know exactly what I mean,” Nate says, knocking Mikey’s knee with his under the table. “Stop being an asshole.”

“It’s not my fault,” Mikey says.

“No, it definitely fucking is,” Nate says. “Also, you have fudge on your face.”

“You have fudge on your face,” Mikey shoots back nonsensically, and then wipes ineffectively at his mouth. “Is it gone?”

“No,” Nate says. “It’s like–” he tries to demonstrate.

Mikey tries again, this time on the wrong side. “Now?”

“No, it’s–come here,” Nate says, then licks his thumb and reaches across the table to wipe it away himself, trying not to think too hard about the fact that he’s touching Mikey’s lips, because that would lead to some thoughts he probably shouldn’t be having about the guy he lives with.

“Thanks,” Mikey says, looking pleased, and a little flushed.

“You’re welcome,” Nate says, trying to sound exasperated, but landing on fond instead.

Mikey’s knee is pressed against his, and he’s back to licking at his ice cream cone obscenely, and despite the fact that he’s in an ice cream parlor in the dead of winter, it feels too hot, all of a sudden, which was probably Mikey’s goal, because he’s a dick.

Nate just takes deep breaths, and eats a spoonful that’s mostly sprinkles when Mikey licks ice cream off his finger.

* * *

Usually, when things with Mikey get to be too much, which they definitely are right now, Nate talks to Connor about it. Connor is a good Big, because he’s a good listener, which makes sense, because he spends a lot of time with Dylan Strome, and Dylan talks a lot.

Connor is diplomatic, too, and never tries to tell Nate what to do. Mostly, he lets Nate lie on his bed and complain about Mikey’s mouth, or his laugh, or his arms, or whatever Mikey’s decided to use to drive Nate crazy that day. He’ll nod politely, let Nate get his dumb feelings out of his system, and then complain about Dylan as Nate contributes the occasional sarcastic remark. It’s a really good system, and Nate’s hoping that Connor’s there when they get back, because he very much needs to take advantage of it tonight.

When Nate and Mikey walk through the front door, Taylor and Mitch Stephens are on the couch, and the Leafs game is playing on the TV.

“Hey,” Mitch says. “Where were you guys?”

“Out for ice cream,” Mikey says, shrugging.

Mitch furrows his brow. “Just the two of you?”

“Yeah?” Nate says, confused as to why Mitch is surprised by that.

“That place we always go,” Mikey says, and Nate glances over to see that he’s blushing, for some reason.

“Ah,” Taylor says, and then he gives Mikey a look that Nate can’t interpret.

Nate feels weird, so he says, “Is Davo around?”

“I doubt it,” Mitch says. “He’s probably with Stromer.”

“Date night? Tonight?” Nate asks. “I thought the Leafs were playing.”

Mikey coughs next to him, and Taylor says, “I mean, it’s Valentine’s Day, so I guess that’s more important.”

Nate blinks. “It is?”

“Yeah? February 14th,” Mitch says.

“Oh,” Nate says. “That explains why the sprinkles were all red and pink today.”

“Guess so,” Taylor says, crossing his arms.

Nate’s head is kind of spinning, so he says, “Well, alright, I’m gonna head to the room for a bit.”

“I’m gonna stay here,” Mikey says.

“Sweet,” Nate says, because he was planning on putting headphones in and trying to get ahead on homework, which is his go-to backup plan for dealing with The Mikey Thing.

He jogs up to his room and settles in with his laptop, and starts browsing through his upcoming assignments. There are a few pdf’s he has open, and he’s taking a class on medieval weaponry, which he’d expected to be, like, more boring than it sounds, but it’s actually pretty lit. He usually saves enjoyable readings for last, but his brain is all foggy, and he really needs to think about something that’s not Mikey, like, stat, so he opens it up.

He gets through the introduction smoothly enough, but he makes the mistake of glancing up in the direction of Mikey’s bed, which makes him think about Mikey again, and once he reads the first sentence of the next paragraph four times, he realizes that he’s in his head, again, and groans.

_hey, i have a big favor to ask you,_ he texts Connor. He doesn’t expect a response, figuring Connor will see it if he goes to the bathroom or something, but a few minutes later, Nate’s phone buzzes.

_is everything alright???_ Connor asks.

_yeah no emergency just clouder stuff idk,_ Nate sends back. Then, he adds, _dont worry bout it nvm._

_we’re almost done w/ dinner,_ Connor replies.

_spend vday w/ ur boy, we can talk later,_ Nate sends. Honestly, he’d feel guilty if Connor cut Valentine’s Day short because of Nate, and he’d probably, like, leave the frat if Connor and Dylan had a fight about it.

_alright,_ Connor says, and Nate sighs and locks his phone.

Figuring homework is a lost cause, he gets up from the bed and slips on some shoes, then throws on his jacket, shimmies open the window, and climbs out onto the roof. It’s chilly, but there’s no snow, and the crappy string of Christmas lights that he and Mikey had set up around the perimeter make it look nice, even if the cold kind of stings.

It’s windy enough that the noise sort of mutes everything, which is exactly what Nate needs right now. The backyard is only really used for parties and tailgates, but it’s a Wednesday night, right at that part of the semester when work starts to pick up, and most of the guys are in the library, or, apparently, out with their significant others.

Nate sighs, and tries not to think about that. He hasn’t dated anyone seriously since high school, and he’s really fine with it. He has frat stuff, and he has school stuff, and he has Mikey, and between those three things, he doesn’t even know when he’d have time for a relationship. He hooks up, sometimes, but it’s only at parties, and he’s never brought anyone back to their room. Mikey doesn’t either, so Nate assumes it’s some unspoken agreement, but mostly, he doesn’t want to bring someone else into a space that’s his and Mikey’s, even if Mikey was fine with it.

It’s just–it would be weird, because it’s theirs. Their freshman dorm may have been small and shitty and the same as every other dorm in the building, but it was also not, because Mikey had scratched the paint on the wall when he’d tried to loft his bed. Their current room might be in a gross frat house that they share with eight other dudes, but there’s a long list of initials carved into the floorboards of brothers who’ve lived there before, and one day, Nate and Mikey are gonna add theirs. It’s a place that belong to the two of them, and Nate doesn’t like the idea of inviting someone random into it.  

Most days, Nate can handle it. He loves it, really; he loves Mikey, loves that he and Mikey are a pair, and that so much of himself is caught up in Mikey. He loves that they choose classes together, that they live together, that they need to schedule time apart, instead of time together. It’s codependent as fuck, but it’s just how they fit together, and it makes so much of Nate’s life so, so much better.

But the days when he can’t handle it are like–like he’s suffocating, sometimes, and it’s fucked up, because it’s not Mikey that’s suffocating him, but how much he wants Mikey, and how guilty he feels about wanting him when he already has so much of him. He hates that any part of their friendship could somehow seem like not enough, because Mikey is more than Nate could ever ask for.

And the thing is–if Mikey wanted more from Nate, if he wanted anything at all, he would ask, in his simple, Mikey McLeod way, but he hasn’t.  

Nate’s train of thought is interrupted by a small tapping noise, and he turns around, expecting to see Mikey, but instead, he sees Connor.

“Can I come out there?” Connor says.

Nate shrugs. “Thought I told you not to worry about it.”

“Yeah, well, I worried anyway,” Connor says, climbing out and sitting next to Nate.. “Plus, Raddy had to talk to Dylan about something, so I figured I could check in.”

“Emotional support power couple,” Nate says. “I didn’t see that one coming.”

“Well, it’s happening,” Connor says. “What’s up?”

Nate sighs. “It’s nothing. We went out for ice cream.”

“Ah,” Connor says.

“And like–he was being all–y’know, _Mikey,_ and I just–it sucks.”

“It does,” Connor says. “I’m sorry.”

“I just don’t really know what to do,” Nate says. “It’s just like–god, I wish I didn’t want him.”

“Trust me, I know the feeling,” Connor says.

“No offense, dude, but I don’t think you do,” Nate says. “You didn’t _know_ that you were, like, way fucked up over Stromer, even if the rest of us did.”

“I knew that I was fucked up over him,” Connor says. “I just didn’t know why, or what I wanted from him. Besides, like, wanting him to stop being an idiot.”

Nate snorts. “That one was never gonna happen.”

“Well, we figured shit out eventually,” Connor says.

“And now, he’s your idiot, and you two get to live happily ever after,” Nate snaps.

There’s a second of silence, and Nate’s about to apologize, because that was pretty harsh, but before he can, Connor asks, “Do… you know what you want?”

“Yeah,” Nate says. “Mikey. You’ve met him. Quiet kid, about 6’2”, lives in that room you came through to get to this roof, smile made of sunshine?”

“That’s not what I meant,” Connor says. “What do you want from him?”

“I don’t think I can say in polite company,” Nate says.

Connor snorts. “We’re on the roof of a frat house, I don’t think this counts as polite company. But–is that really all you want? Just, like, sex?”

Nate sighs. “No.”

“Well,” Connor says, “then what?”

“What do you mean? I want–like, to be together, and all gross and romantic and shit. Like, I don’t know, going out to dinner, and holding hands, and dumb Instagram pictures and stuff.”

“You have all that,” Connor says.

“I know, but I want–” and Nate knows what comes next, knows what he should say, and what he feels, and what he wants, but it’s not something he’s ever really articulated, or even said to himself in his head.

“You want…” Connor prompts.

Nate groans. “Give me a second, I’m trying to figure out the phrasing.”

“No you’re not,” Connor says, because he’s annoyingly perceptive.

“You’ve gotten annoying since you got a boyfriend, you know that?”

“Yeah, well, I didn’t get him by sitting on rooftops and moping.”

“Yes, you did,” Nate says. “You moped all the time.”

“Alright, fine, but it didn’t help,” Connor says.

“Well, I don’t know what I’m supposed to do,” Nate says. “I don’t think he’s gonna kiss me and then ignore me for a month any time soon, so the Strome option is out the window.”

“Well, you can talk to him,” Connor says. “That’s always been an option.”

“I already know what he’d say,” Nate says.

“No, you don’t,” Connor says.

“Yes, I do,” Nate says. “It’s Mikey. I’m like, a Mikey McLeod expert. I’m pretty sure if there were a department called ‘Mikey Studies,’ I’d be the chair.”

“Okay, but even if that’s true, he still–he flirts with you all the time.”

“Exactly.”

“He asked you to hang out on Valentine’s Day,” Connor says.

“He didn’t ask me on a date, though,” Nate says.

“But you’ve never asked him,” Connor says. “Like, I know it’s–you know him better than I do, but it’s easier to make excuses for yourself than you think.”

“I’m not,” Nate says.

“Nate,” Connor says. “Think about it, at least.”

“Fine,” Nate says, and he probably sounds petulant, but Connor’s being annoying.

Connor seems to recognize that that’s as much as he’s gonna get out of Nate, so he nods once. “I’m gonna go see if Raddy’s alright.”

“Do what you gotta,” Nate says, and he feels, like, worse, right now. Connor’s a sounding board, not a fucking therapist, and Nate didn’t ask for, like, emotional homework. Connor gives him a concerned look, but goes inside, and then, after a few more minutes of trying to just stop feeling so shitty, Nate follows suit, figuring a small change of scenery will help him.

But apparently, the world is determined to make this the worst Valentine’s Day ever, because Mikey walks through the door at that moment, which means he can see that Nate was on the roof, which means he knows that Nate’s in a mood.

“Hi,” Mikey says, his voice cautious.

“Hey,” Nate says, and it comes out angry.

“You’re freaking out,” Mikey says. It’s not a question.

“It’s nothing,” Nate says, and he goes to sit on his bed. “Don’t worry–”

“You were freaking out earlier, too,” Mikey says. “About the whole Valentine’s Day thing.”

“You noticed that, huh,” Nate says.

“Well, so was I,” Mikey says, and then he sits next to Nate. “I–I didn’t know it was Valentine’s Day when I asked you to hang out. I forgot too.”  

“But you realized before I did?”

“We’d already gotten ice cream,” Mikey says. “I mean, it would’ve been weird to, like, leave in the middle.”

“You still–it’s not just about the fact that we got ice cream,” Nate says. “You know that. You’ve gotta know that.”

“I–I do,” Mikey says.

Nate thinks Mikey’s gonna say more, but he doesn’t, so Nate says, “It was about–the ice cream, and the chocolate, and–you know.”

“I’m sorry,” Mikey says. “About all that stuff.”

“It’s not that–I’m just, like–I don’t know,” Nate says.

“No, keep going,” Mikey says. “I know I can be–weird, sometimes.”

“It’s not that it’s weird,” Nate says. “It’s just that… it’s you.”

“Oh,” Mikey says, and his face falls, and Nate wants to take it back, honestly, but he doesn’t want to lie to Mikey’s face.

“I’m sorry,” Nate says, too quiet.

“No, it’s–it’s fine,” Mikey says. “Or, actually, no, I’m–I’m not, like, fine, but–I’m glad you told me. I’m sorry I’ve been–I’ll stop, with all the stuff.”

“I–just, I don’t really know why you do it?” Nate asks.

“I mean, y’know,” Mikey says. “But, like, it’s cool, I’ll stop.”

“What do you mean, I know?” Nate says. “I don’t know, like, at all. We’ve never talked about it.”

“Okay, but, like, you _know,”_ Mikey says.

“I’m telling you that I don’t,” Nate says. “I just thought that you–you liked it, or whatever.”

“I mean, yeah,” Mikey says.

“Yeah,” Nate says.

There’s a second of silence, and then Mikey says, “I guess–what do we even stop doing?”

“I don’t know,” Nate says. “I guess–maybe all of it, for a while?”

He hates saying it, and he regrets it the second it comes out of his mouth, but he doesn’t know if he can wean himself off Mikey.

Mikey looks absolutely devastated by it, and Nate has never felt like a worse friend in his life, because Mikey McLeod shouldn’t be heartbroken, but Nate is breaking it.

“Just–all of it?” Mikey asks. “But–I thought it was just, like, the–the flirting, or whatever.”

“I mean,” Nate says, “It’s not–what even is flirting, right?”

“I don’t understand what you’re saying,” Mikey says, and there’s a quiver in his voice that makes tears well behind Nate’s eyes.

“You act like you’re my–” Nate says, and there it is, the thing he can’t say, because if he says it, it’ll be too real. “Like you’re mine, I guess.”

“I mean,” Mikey says. “I kind of am.”

“But you’re not,” Nate says. “Not like–” god, he knows that it’s just a dumb word, and that his entire fucking life is crashing down around him right now, and that it shouldn’t matter, but he still can’t do it, even if they both know what it means.

“I’m not your boyfriend,” Mikey says, and Nate can see that there are tears on his face.

“Yeah,” Nate says. “You act like you’re my boyfriend, but you’re not, and it’s–it’s just, like, a lot, sometimes.” He feels empty, like this beautiful thing he’s always had with Mikey has finally toppled and turned to dust, and there are tears in his eyes, but he can’t even feel himself crying, can’t feel much of anything at all, right now, not when he’s losing Mikey.

“I’m sorry,” Mikey says, wiping at his eyes. “Alright, well, that’s–alright. I’ll clear out tonight, I guess.”

“No, I will,” Nate says. “It was my idea.”

“It’s my fault,” Mikey says.

“It’s mine,” Nate says. “Seriously, I’ll crash on the couch or something.”

“I just–I know I’m being an asshole,” Mikey says, sniffling. “But this shouldn’t be sad. Things with us aren’t supposed to be sad. We’re too solid for this.”

Nate manages to smile, even though he’s definitely still crying. “Yeah, well–I mean, we’ll bounce back.”

“I know, but–god, this is so _weird._ Like, it was a dick move to, like, pretend we were dating when you didn’t want to, but–fuck, I don’t know, it doesn’t–it shouldn’t end like this. This is what happens when people are being dumb about their feelings. We’re not supposed to be dumb about our feelings.”

It hits Nate like a blow, because, jesus, where does Mikey get off criticizing the way he deals with his shit?

“Uh, wow, okay,” he says, angry, now, which feels awful, but it’s better than helpless.

“I mean–what, dude?”

“What do you mean, ‘what?’ That was a low fucking blow,” Nate says.

Mikey blinks. “Wh–I mean, I’m not saying that I was being _smart_ , just–not, like, bad enough for it to be like this.”

Nate wants to scream, but then Mikey’s words hit him, because Mikey isn’t talking about Nate’s feelings, and there’s–there’s an implication, there.

And, like, an implication isn’t something to risk a friendship over, because Mikey has been a wealth of implications from the day they met, and Nate had figured they were meaningless, but Nate thinks that if he doesn’t act on this particular implication, he might miss out on something big, on something important.

Mikey could leave now, and Nate would get to work getting over him, then start rebuilding what they had as soon as he could. They _would_ be solid, because, more often than not, they’re _not_ stupid, but Nate thinks about what Connor said, about excuses, and not pushing that implication, just because it’s only an implication, seems like an excuse.

“Is–I’m really confused,” Nate says, because he’s on the precipice of hopeful, but it’s still so fragile, and there are still tears drying on his cheeks.

“I just–I think that there should be a way for us to work through this,” Mikey says. “Like, yeah, it sucks, but–we’re always gonna be good together, y’know?”

“You… you always just, like, go for it,” Nate says. “When you want something. You push for things.”

“I’m not trying to be pushy,” Mikey says. “I mean, I can’t–shit, I know you can’t, just, change how you feel.”

“No, I can’t,” Nate says. “I–what do you think I feel?”

“Like, you don’t–like, I want something, and you don’t want it,” Mikey says.

“What do you want?” Nate asks, and he’s letting himself feel a little hopeful, now.

“What?” Mikey asks. “I–c’mon, man.”

“No, dude,” Nate says. “Seriously, just–I think we might be really fucking shit up. Just, like, tell me what you want.”

“Why does this have to be on me?” Mikey asks.

“I mean,” Nate says. “You–you ask for things.”

“Okay, but, like, exactly,” Mikey says. “God, I fucking–I flirt with you, all the fucking time, and I ask you to hang out, like, literally every day. You have to know what I want.”

“I thought you would ask for it,” Nate says. “Fuck, wait–”

“I asked you to kiss me,” Mikey says. “Like–yeah, that was forever ago, but, like, that’s kind of a giveaway, you know?”

“I just thought you–you were happy, and, like, wanted to kiss someone.”

“I wanted to kiss _you,”_ Mikey says. “I _want_ to kiss you.”

“But you also want to–you like me?” Nate asks.

“I–yeah, no shit. Yes, I like you, a whole fucking lot,” Mikey says.

“What the fuck,” Nate says. “What the fuck, you never told me.”

“I mean, I pretty much–what’s happening?” Mikey asks. “I thought you didn’t–didn’t want to. That’s, like, the whole thing.”

Nate just lets his head fall into his hands and stares at the ground between his feet, because _what the fuck._ “Oh my god,” he says. “Oh my god, we’re, like, actually idiots.”

“Nate?” Mikey asks, his voice cautious. “Are you okay?”

“Good question,” Nate says. “How did we–you _ask_ for things, Mikey. If you don’t ask, it’s because you don’t want it.”

“I–are you telling me you didn’t know? That I like you?”

“I had no fucking clue.”

“How?” Mikey asks. “What the fuck, I was so obvious–”

“We should get dinner, tomorrow,” Nate says. He hasn’t moved his head, and he can’t see Mikey’s face when he says it, but he clarifies, because he’s not gonna leave any room for confusion here. “As in, like, a date.”

Mikey’s quiet for a second, and Nate finally looks up, and Mikey’s just staring at him.

“No,” Mikey says, his voice awed. Then, he realizes what he’s said, and goes, “Wait, I mean, yes, but–”

“I know,” Nate says, and then he laughs, because he’s the dumbest person in the entire fucking universe.

“You like me back,” Mikey says, and they’re finally on the same page again, and the world feels steadier under Nate’s feet.

“So fucking much, dude,” Nate says, still laughing. “Like, it was really bad.”

“You thought I would just, like, ask?” Mikey asks, smiling, now. “That’s so–who does that?”

“You,” Nate says, tears welling at the corner of his eyes. “You always ask for things.”

Now Mikey’s laughing, and this is probably the messiest conversation they’ve ever had. “You keep saying that. I ask, like, professors for extensions, and whatever. That’s not–it’s not even, like, a comparison.”

“I guess it’s not,” Nate says. He looks at Mikey, who looks so fucking radiant, and he reaches out and pulls Mikey close, burying his smile in Mikey’s hair. To Nate’s delight, Mikey tucks his head into Nate’s chest, clutching Nate’s shirt, and they stay like that, giggling out of relief and shock, because this is big, and wonderful, and there’s so much to process in it.

Eventually, they stop laughing, but they stay tangled up in each other, because they can, finally.

“Wow,” Nate says. “We almost fucked this up.”

“To be fair, I wasn’t gonna let you go that easy,” Mikey says. “I was gonna say that, like, we should go on a date, and give it a real shot. I was gonna storm off and come back with flowers and chocolate and shit tomorrow. It would’ve been romantic as fuck.”

“Did you really think I was turning you down?” Nate asks.

“I mean, yeah,” Mikey says.

“I’m sorry, I just–I can’t picture that,” Nate says. “Me, turning you down. That’s just, like, fake.”

“I thought I was being so fucking obvious,” Mikey says. “Everyone else guessed.”   

“I mean, I–like, I really liked you,” Nate says. “Like, a lot.”

“I liked you more,” Mikey says, automatic.

“Nope,” Nate says. “Not possible.”

“I really did,” Mikey says. “It was pretty pathetic.”

“I was pathetic-er.”

“That’s not even a word.”

“Well, now it is,” Nate says. “They had to create it, just to match the scale of my pining.”

“How long?” Mikey asks.

“I mean,” Nate says. “I don’t know? It was kind of always, though. I started whining to Davo about it last Winter, but it was pretty bad, at that point.”

“Wow,” Mikey says.

“Yeah, well,” Nate says. “What about you?”

“Right after I asked you to kiss me, freshman year,” Mikey says, looking up at Nate. “It was like, one of those eye-opening things.”

Nate’s gonna say something in response to that, except then he realizes that Mikey is right here, and his lips are right there, and that he’s wanted this as badly as Nate for a long, long time. Nate wants to kiss Mikey, which is a familiar feeling, except he also _can,_ now, and that’s, like, very new, and really fucking awesome.

“Hey,” Mikey says, soft, and he probably realizes that Nate is staring at his mouth.

“You–” Nate says, but he cuts himself off, because he’s wasted so much fucking time already, so he just surges forward.

It’s surreal, kissing Mikey, and better than he could possibly imagine, which is saying something, because Nate thinks the fucking world of Michael McLeod. But Mikey’s lips are warm and soft against Nate’s, and Nate puts his hand in Mikey’s hair, and then Mikey’s tongue is there, and god, Nate _wants,_ and he’d never thought that wanting Mikey could feel this good _._

The angle is awkward, so Nate adjusts, lying back on the bed and pulling Mikey with him, and Mikey climbs on top of him, and he seems so fucking eager. It’s the most amazing feeling in the world, knowing that Mikey is finally _here_ , and Nate puts his hands everywhere he can, because he wants to, and he knows that Mikey wants him to.

“Okay,” Mikey says, pulling away, and Nate takes a second to appreciate the breathlessness in Mikey’s voice, and the way his face is flushed and hot. Nate puts his hands on Mikey’s hips, because he can, now, because Mikey is _his._

“What’s up?” Nate asks, and he realizes he probably looks as bad as Mikey.

“I wanna blow you,” Mikey says. “Is that okay?”

Nate laughs. “That’s, like, so much more than okay.”

“Cool,” Mikey says, and his face is still serious, like he’s making a game plan. “I might be rusty, just a fair warning.”

“I think I’ll be okay,” Nate says. “Actually, scratch that, I think I’ll be more than okay. Like, I think any situation in which you’re sucking my dick is great.”

“Okay, awesome,” Mikey says. “Can I sleep here tonight?”

“It’s your room too,” Nate says.  

“I meant in your bed,” Mikey says.

“Hm,” Nate says, pretending to consider it. “If you let me buy you breakfast tomorrow.”

“I thought we were doing dinner,” Mikey says, smiling.

“That too,” Nate says. “I can pay for two meals.”

“Does that mean I get to buy lunch?” Mikey asks.

“If you want,” Nate says. “Three dates in one day.”

“We’re making up for lost time,” Mikey says, and he tugs at Nate’s shoulder, so Nate sits up. “Plus, you know what they say about the third date.”

“I don’t think I do,” Nate says, pressing a kiss to Mikey’s neck.

“Oh, well, I can tell you, but it would probably be better if I showed you,” Mikey says, and he works his hands underneath Nate’s shirt before helping him take it off.

“Yeah, that’ll work,” Nate says, and he watches Mikey laugh, then pull of his own shirt, and god, Mikey is the most beautiful person Nate has ever seen.

Which he must say out loud, because Mikey blushes, smiling as he says, “Oh my god, Nate.”

“Too much?” Nate asks.

Mikey shakes his head. “Not at all.”

Nate kisses Mikey, again, and then Mikey presses a kiss to his cheek, then his jaw, and then his neck, and then his collarbone, and he keeps going, leaving a trail of kisses down Nate’s body. Nate lets the sensation of every last one wash over him, his eyes falling shut. He opens them again when he feels Mikey’s hand on the waistband of his jeans, and he finds Mikey looking up at him.

“This is good, right?” Mikey asks. “Like, you’re sure?”

Nate looks at Mikey, and he’s almost delirious from how much he wants him.

“I’m sure,” Nate says.

“I mean, like, about everything,” Mikey says. “I just–I really don’t want–I know this is kind of fast, but, like, I’m serious about this.”

“I am too.”

“Like, it really sucked when I thought that everything was just, like, done, and I’m not going through that bullshit again,” Mikey says. “We’re not gonna be stupid about this.”

“We’re not,” Nate agrees. “We’re gonna be awesome.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

Mikey smiles, then leans down and presses a kiss to Nate’s mouth. “Cool,” he says.

“Super cool,” Nate agrees, and then Mikey gets to work unbuttoning Nate’s jeans.

* * *

Nate wakes up early, the next morning, and Mikey is asleep in his arms.

This has happened plenty of times before, except Mikey is naked, now, and Nate is, like, not overcome with longing, for once.

Then, he remembers–  

Well, his brain remembers some stuff, but Nate just kind of blinks. It’s so early, and he’s only been awake for, like, a second, and he instinctively rejects any thoughts that might give him hope that Mikey likes him, so he assumes it’s a dream.

A really great dream, but a dream nonetheless.

He waits, for a second, for it to start feeling like a dream and stop feeling so real, except that doesn’t happen, which is strange.

Carefully, he disentangles himself from Mikey, who makes a protesting noise in his sleep, and Nate smiles, because it’s really cute.

He makes his way to the bathroom, tiptoeing. It’s just past sunrise, and Nate doesn’t even know why he’s awake, but he’s not gonna question it. The house is really pretty, all quiet and full of the gentle morning light, and Nate likes it like this.For whatever reason, he’s just… feeling good, about things, and maybe that has something to do with the dream he had about Mikey, but it feels more real than that, like there’s something about today that he’s maybe looking forward to. He tries to remember, but can’t and figure he can check his phone when he gets back to the room.

He takes a piss, splashes some water on his face, and brushes his teeth, and as he looks in the mirror, he sees a hickey on his neck.

Nate freezes.

He’s not hungover, so that means he didn’t get drunk and hook up with someone last night, and anyway, he has the vague sense of dread that means he has class today, which means he almost definitely didn’t go out.

And Nate’s been awake for, like, five minutes, and his dream from last night still doesn’t feel like a dream, and Mikey is asleep, naked, in his bed.

He rinses his mouth quickly and walks back to his room to check that part’s real, just in case, because Nate has an unfortunate number of thoughts about Mikey being naked in his bed on any given day. When he gets there, though, it’s the same as he left it, Mikey and all. Nate can see the muscles of Mikey’s back, moving as he takes deep, steady breaths.

Nate wonders if this is a doppelganger who happens to exactly resemble Mikey from behind, but Mikey’s bed is empty, and Nate doesn’t think Mikey’s naked doppelganger being in his bed is somehow any more plausible than Mikey himself. Then, Nate hears an adorable, sleepy grunt, which all but confirms that the figure in his bed is, in fact, Mikey.

And, also, naked.

He goes back to the bed, crawling in and slotting his legs with Mikey’s, and he’s pretty sure he’s shaking as he does. Mikey looks so calm, and he barely wakes up as Nate wraps himself around him again, and Nate sees a part of Mikey’s neck that he remembers kissing, and he’s way too awake, now, for it to have been a dream.

Which means that that night–that was real, which means–

Holy shit.

Holy _shit._

“Mikey,” he says, right in Mikey’s ear, because this is a really fucking big deal. “Mikey, wake up.”

“What do you want?” Mikey says, but it comes out as mostly one word.

“You’re in my bed,” Nate says.

“Mmhmm,” Mikey says, drifting back into sleep.

“Do you remember last night?” Nate asks.

“No,” Mikey says. “I’m asleep.”

“We’re together,” Nate says. “Like, _together_ -together.”

Mikey turns and blinks his eyes open at Nate. “What?”

“We’re dating,” Nate says.

Mikey furrows his brow. “Is that supposed to be funny?”

“No, man,” Nate says. “You’re my boyfriend.”

“Does that mean you’re my boyfriend, too?” Mikey says.

“Yes,” Nate says. “Dude, I’m serious, wake up.”

“Gimme a sec,” Mikey says. “Fuck, what time is it?”

“I don’t know. Early,” Nate says. “No one else is awake.”

“Then why are you?” Mikey asks.

“I just, like, woke up,” Nate says. “Come on, man.”

“Can’t you wake someone else up?” Mikey asks.

“I like you better,” Nate says.

That earns him a sleepy smile. “You’re cute.”

“I know. That’s why you’re dating me.”

Mikey looks at Nate, then shifts so he’s lying on his back. He stares up at the ceiling for a second before rubbing at his eyes with both hands. “Wait, what did you just say?”

“Remember? Last night?” Nate says.

“Last night,” Mikey repeats. “We–” he blinks. “I’m naked.”

“Yep,” Nate says.

“And this is your bed,” Mikey says.

“Correct,” Nate says.

“And I’m here because last night, we…” Mikey’s voice trails off. “Wait.”

“Give it a second,” Nate says.

“I told you that I like you,” Mikey says. “Holy shit.”

“Yep,” Nate says.

“And you said that you–” Mikey looks at Nate. “And we–”

“No takebacks,” Nate says. “I’ve wanted this for way too long.”

“I’m not, don’t worry,” Mikey says. “Just–give me a sec.”

“Alright,” Nate says, and drums his fingers on the mattress while Mikey takes another minute to.

“So,” Mikey says. “We’re… dating. Each other”

“Yes.”

“I’m your boyfriend.”

“Yep.”

“And you’re my boyfriend.”

“Exactly.”

“Okay, that’s… that’s good,” Mikey says, and then, belatedly, he smiles. “That’s really good.”

“I _know_ ,” Nate says.

Mikey turns so that he and Nate are face-to-face, and Nate puts a hand on Mikey’s hip. “You’re my boyfriend,” Mikey says. “You’re my _boyfriend._ You’re Nate, and you’re my boyfriend.”

“And you’re Mikey, and you’re my boyfriend,” Nate says, pulling Mikey a little bit closer.

“Nate and Mikey: boyfriends,” Mikey says. “That has a nice ring to it.”

“They should make it a movie.”

“I’d watch it.”

“Me too. God, you–you’re mine,” Nate says. “Like, you’re _mine_ , holy shit.”

“Yeah,” Mikey says. “God, this is–oh my god, Nate. ” He laughs, which makes Nate smile, and Nate is going to voice his agreement, because _holy shit,_ but Mikey kisses him instead, and Nate kisses back. Mikey’s lips are _familiar,_ now, because Nate spent all of last night getting to know what Mikey’s lips felt like, and he gets to keep doing it this morning, and for the rest of the day, and for the rest of their goddamn lives, maybe, if Nate has anything to say about it. He kissed Mikey, and he is kissing Mikey, and he will keep kissing Mikey until someone physically pries them apart, and he very much intends to put up a fight when that happens.  

“Mikey,” Nate says.

“That’s my name, don’t wear it out,” Mikey says.

“Fuck you, I’ll do what I want,” Nate says. “Your name is great.”

“Your face is great,” Mikey says.

“Wow, you got me there,” Nate says. “Real clever, that McLeod boy.”

“Fuck off, it’s early,” Mikey says. “Why did you wake me up, anyway?”

“I mean, we’re dating,” Nate says.

“We’ll still be dating later,” Mikey says.

“I wanted to double check,” Nate says. “I’m just, like, really fucking happy.”

Mikey’s smile is warm and huge when he says, “God, fuck. Me too.”  

“Come back here,” Nate says, because he’s impatient. “I wanna kiss you again.”

“Or, we could sleep,” Mikey says.

“Sleep will cut into our kissing time,” Nate says. “Seriously, we’re gonna have to get breakfast in a couple hours, and we’ll feel like crap when we wake up then.”

“That’s true,” Mikey says. “You still planning on buying me breakfast?”

“Oh, hell yeah,” Nate says.

“But then we’ll have to get out of bed,” Mikey says.

“We get more time to make out if we don’t go to sleep,” Nate says.

“Hm,” Mikey says. “Is making out the only thing on the table?”

“I mean,” Nate says, “we’re already naked, and you’re, like, really hot, so.”

“So,” Mikey says.

“Like, as long as we’re in bed and not wearing clothing, I’m pretty much down with anything.” He’s pretty sure he’d do anything for Mikey anyway, if he’s being honest, and he’s pretty sure that’s been true for a long time.

“Anything?” Mikey says, raising an eyebrow. “I could ask you to do some pretty weird stuff.”

“I’ll try anything once,” Nate says, easy.

“Or we could sleep,” Mikey says.

“Do you actually want to sleep?” Nate asks.

“Not really,” Mikey says, grinning. “Just being a dick.”

“Of course you are,” Nate says, and he probably looks ridiculously fond, but it’s just for Mikey, so he thinks that’s okay.

“But you like me anyway,” Mikey says.

“Yep,” Nate says.

“God,” Mikey says, burying his face into Nate’s neck. “You _like_ me. Sorry, I just–”

“I know,” Nate says, and presses a kiss to Mikey’s hair.

Mikey looks up at Nate, smiling, and Nate traces his thumb over Mikey’s lips before kissing him.

 

**Author's Note:**

> [Come talk to me on tumblr,](https://lottswrites.tumblr.com/) or follow me on twitter @lottslottslotts


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